


But I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.

by holographiccatpun, OTPGirl



Series: Spy Owen, Barista Curt. [1]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: AU, Curt is a Barista, Kinda, M/M, Modern AU, More tags and characters to be added, civilians au, coffee shop AU, deals with Curt's alcoholism, owen is still a spy, this bitch gonna be long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holographiccatpun/pseuds/holographiccatpun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPGirl/pseuds/OTPGirl
Summary: Curt Mega is a barista, just living his life. He does the same boring routine day in and day out. But one day, a tall, attractive man walks into the coffee shop he works at and Curt is immediately crushing on him. Owen will change Curt's life forever and Curt will change Owen. But neither of them know it yet.
Relationships: Owen "Carson"/Curt Mega, Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Series: Spy Owen, Barista Curt. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102550
Comments: 13
Kudos: 41





	1. You walked in and my heart went boom.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there all you lovelies! We are super excited to share this with you. At the time of this first chapter going up we have written over 90 pages and no end in sight. I hope you all enjoy, and be on the lookout for updates.

Curt Mega is pulled out of his day-dream by the dainty jingle of the bell on the front door that alerts them when customers come in. 

Curt pushes himself up from where he was leaning on the counter and straightens his back, plastering his customer service smile on his face. It’s a slow day, so his co-worker Angela took her lunch break a bit early, leaving Curt to both make the coffee and man the register. 

Meaning Curt is the only one here to see the most attractive man Curt has even seen walk up to the counter.

The man is tall, taller than Curt, most of that height coming from his legs, and he moves silently. You can tell, despite his slender frame, that he’s strong. When Curt’s gaze continues its journey up the man’s body, he notices that the skin on his face is slightly tanned. He has long, dark hair that Curt wants to reach out and run his fingers through. It’s slicked back and comes to an end just below the man’s chin, which is the slightest bit crooked.

He approaches the counter, eyes focused downwards at a phone in his hand. He comes to a stop, and his eyes flick up to Curt. 

“Good morning! What can I get started for you?” Curt says in a chipper voice automatically. He feels like he could get lost in this stranger’s chocolatey brown eyes. 

“Yes, hello.” Oh fuck, he’s British. His smooth voice paired with the posh sounding accent makes Curt’s knees go a bit weak. “Can I get a large latte with two extra shots of espresso, please?” Wow, this guy must really want to stay awake.

“Sure, hot or iced?” There is most certainly a correct answer to this question, and Curt desperately hopes this man gets it right.

“Hot.” Perfect.

Curt rings the drink in. He can feel the British man’s eyes still on him, and he doesn’t know if he’s watching to make sure Curt rings in the drink properly, or if he’s watching Curt. 

“That will be $8.05.” The British man elegantly raises an eyebrow, and how the fuck does one raise an eyebrow elegantly? It’s a fucking eyebrow! 

“I don’t mean to seem rude, but just down the road at Starbucks, this drink usually totals under eight dollars.” Oh great, he’s going to be one of those customers. Pity too, Curt was going to flirt with him. 

“Yeah, their prices are a bit cheaper, but they’re a big corporation, we’re a little locally-owned shop. Besides, their coffee is shit.” Curt tries his hardest to keep his cheery voice going, but he’s sure it slips. He’ll probably get scolded again for swearing in front of a guest, but at this moment, he doesn’t really care. He thought he was going to get to flirt with a hot, British guy and maybe get to exchange numbers, and now he’s just disappointed. 

Curt is fully expecting the man to get irritated, either over the higher price or Curt’s language. He expects that he’ll demand Curt match the price, and when he won’t he’ll demand to speak to the manager, who is Curt. It’ll probably end with this guy storming out, screaming about how he’ll never come back here again. 

Instead, the man laughs. Not just a polite chuckle, but a full out laugh, tilting his head back and everything. 

“I suppose you’re right. Here.” He holds out a credit card to Curt, who dutifully takes it and swipes it. Maybe, Curt can still flirt with this guy. He hands the card back with a genuine smile. 

“Can I have a name for the order?” They’re the only two people in the store. Curt doesn’t technically have to ask for the name. But he’s a good employee and follows all of his duties all of the time. 

And he’s curious. 

“Owen.” 

“Owen. Got it. It will be out in just a minute.” Curt busies himself with making the drink, trying to hide how big his smile is. He spies out of the corner of his eye that the man, Owen, takes a seat at the table in the window, pulling his phone back out. Curt almost gets distracted by the way the sunlight streams in, the sunbeams dancing in his hair, lighting Owen up from behind. If Curt was religious, he’d almost say Owen looks like an angel. 

A latte isn’t hard to make, so it takes Curt no time at all. He’s good with foam art. He’s really good, the best in this coffee shop. He writes his phone number in the foam and slides the cup over to Owen, leaving the lid off. 

“One latte with two extra shots of espresso for Owen.” Curt calls out. Owen comes over to the counter and takes the drink, downing it without even looking at it. Curt feels like an arrow was just shot through his chest. Damn it. 

“This is, I think this is the best coffee I’ve had in a long time.” Owen half moans, and Curt can’t think about that right now. 

“Well, I’m glad you like it.” 

Owen pulls his card back out and hands it to Curt. 

“Can I get five more of these?” Curt’s eyes widen at that. Five more? 

“Uh, sure.” He quickly rings in the drinks and swipes Owen’s card again. All thoughts of flirting go out of Curt’s head as he set to make all of the drinks. Again, they aren’t hard to make, but having to do five at once is a bit much. 

He gets the drinks out, Owen drinks them all, thanks Curt, drops six $ 20’s in the tip jar, and leaves. 

Curt can’t help but feel disappointed, Owen is hot, tall, British, and a good tipper, and Curt didn’t even get his number. Still, he just made $120 off of 6 drinks. Well, $60 once he splits it with Angela, but still, not a bad day. 

* * *

Curt has the afternoon shift the next day, and when he gets there, he immediately sees Owen sitting in one of the armchairs in the back. He drops his bag behind the counter, and Blake, another Barestia, grabs his arm.

“Curt, do you know that guy? He came in like an hour and a half ago asking for you and has been sitting there ever since.” Blake sounds vaguely concerned for Curt, which is touching. 

“Kinda, he came in yesterday and left a really generous tip.” Curt shrugs. He looks back over towards Owen, who is now looking at him. They make eye contact for a moment before Curt feels himself begin to blush and looks away. “Hey, you don’t mind if I…” 

“Go ahead, man. I’ll keep an eye out to make sure he doesn’t try to kill you or whatever.” The two of them fistbump, and Blake goes to help a guest who just walked in. Curt walks over to Owen, who hasn’t moved from his seat in the back of the store.

“Hi. Owen, right?” Curt doesn’t want to come across as creepy, but he doesn’t want Owen to think he forgot him either. 

“That’s right.” Owen nods. “I was thinking last night that you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” 

Owen was thinking about him? Wait, does that mean…

“Curt.” He burst out, speaking louder than he intended. The guest who Blake was helping glances back at them before turning back to whatever she was doing. “My name is Curt.” 

God, could he be any more awkward? Owen’s smile grows.

“Well, Curt, I should very much like to take you out, if you’d like.” 

Yes! Yes, Curt would like very much. 

“Oh. Sure, that sounds nice.” Curt has to play it cool. He doesn’t want to scare him off by seeming overly excited. 

“Wonderfull! How about I take you to dinner after your shift tonight?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Owen gets to his feet and holds a hand out. Hesitantly, Curt places his hand in it. He doesn’t think Owen is going to hurt him, but he’s worried that he misunderstood Owen’s gesture. 

Curt is assured that he didn’t when Owen brings Curt’s hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it. 

“I will see you tonight then.” Thankfully Owen doesn’t seem to be waiting for Curt to reply because he wouldn’t be able to if he could. Owen quickly leaves, and Curt is stuck in the same place, heart-pounding and breathing heavy. 

Oh god. He has a date. Tonight. With Owen. 

“Curt? I could really use some help.” Blake gets Curt’s attention. During his short conversation with Owen, a bit of a line had formed. Curt quickly gets behind the counter and begins making drinks as Blake takes orders. 

* * *

  
When Curt is locking up the Coffee shop that night, Owen is there waiting for him. Curt forces himself to focus on making sure the door is locked tight, using the few seconds it buys him to force his heart to calm down. Once he can no longer use the door as an excuse not to look at Owen, Curt does just that. He turns, an excited smile on his face. Owen smiles back at Curt and holds his right arm out, offering it to Curt. 

“Are you ready to go, love?” Curt’s heart flutters at the use of the pet name as well as the charming gesture. He nods, not trusting his voice, and takes the offered arm. 

They walk down the streets of Herndon arm in arm, Curt listening to Owen talk about all the lovely things that they pass. It seems this man knows more about Curt’s city than he does.

They quickly come to a very quaint, very expensive restaurant that Curt is very much underdressed for, him still being in his barista uniform and all. Curt is about to voice his concerns when Owen ushers him inside. The British man walks confidently walks up to the host stand. 

“Hello, I have a reservation for two. It should be under the name Carson, Owen Carson.” Curt just now realizes that he didn’t know Owen’s last name until that very second. The hostess looks at them for a moment, her eyes resting on Curt for a long moment, clearly judging him. Her eyes flick down to the tablet in front of her.

“Right this way, Mr.Carson.” She leads the two of them to the back, sitting them at a very intimate table. Owen lets go of Curt’s arms and pulls out the chair for him. Once Curt sits, he pushes it in, his breath brushing against Curt’s ear and sending a shiver down his spine. 

The dinner goes by in a blur. Owen sips bourbon, his eyes never leaving Curt’s face for more than a moment. Curt sticks to water, he’s waiting for the question that he’s sure will come, but it never does. 

Owen orders for both of them. Curt can’t remember what the dish is called, but whatever it is is delicious. The two of them laugh, they talk, they flirt, Owen’s foot brushing up Curt’s leg once or twice. 

“Were the two of you thinking about any desserts this evening?” Their waiter asks as he clears their dinner plates away. Owen doesn’t look up at him, his eyes firmly locked on Curt. 

“Not this evening. I have my eye set on something else.” Curt squirms in his seat, cheeks flushing a brilliant red. They leave quickly, Owen leaving a pile of cash on the table. 

They barely make it outside before they can’t fight it anymore. Curt is pulled into the ally behind the restaurant. 

* * *

  
When they’re done, Owen helps Curt make sure he doesn’t look like he just got mugged. Owen presses a kiss against Curt’s cheek chastely, like he hadn’t just had his tongue down Curt’s throat. 

“I had a wonderful evening.” Owen tells him. 

“So did I. I’d really like to do this again sometime.” Curt really hopes he’s not being too forward.

“Let me see your phone.” Owen holds out his hand, and Curt doesn’t hesitate to give him what he’s asking for. As soon as he does, he realizes he’ll probably need to unlock- “Now you have my number. Call me or send me a text, and we can set up a second date.” Curt must have unlocked his phone without realizing it. Weird. 

“I will.” Curt promises. Owen offers to walk him back to the coffee house, and Curt lets him. Once there, Owen gives him a goodbye hug, and Curt rests his forehead against Owen’s chest. This feels right. He feels like this is where he belongs. That thought should scare him, he just met this man yesterday, but it doesn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt and Owen continue their... whatever this is and Curt tries not to fuck it up.

Curt manages to get home, safely too, despite how light-headed he feels and how hard his heart is pounding. He drops his stuff by the door and makes a b-line for his room. Without a second thought, he face plants onto his bed, processing everything that happened that evening.

He went out. On a date. With a man who seems to have walked directly out of one of his fantasies. He rolls over onto his side and pulls one of his many pillows to his chest, clutching it there. He’s smiling, and he can feel his cheeks growing sore from how much of that he’s been doing this evening, but he just can’t stop. He feels like a teenager in high school whose crush smiled at him in the hallway. 

Curt feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he pulls it out. A quick glance down shows the name ‘Owen’ flash across his screen. The smile on his face grows that much larger as he scrolls his thumb across the screen and opens the message. 

_‘_ _I trust you got home safely.’_

Curt’s heart skips a beat. Owen cares, he honestly seems to care, and that’s strange. Other than his mother and her partner, Curt hasn’t had someone actually care about him. Well, maybe his sponsor, but it’s her job to care. 

_‘Yeah, I just got in. I hope you got back to your hotel easily enough.’_

Curt hits send and then immediately regrets it. He’s so worried that he’s going to say the wrong thing and scare Owen off. It would be better if he just didn’t say anything, right?

_‘I did indeed.’_

Curt bites his lip, unsure how to respond to that. Thankfully, another message from Owen comes through, saving Curt from having to answer. 

_‘I’m in town for a few more days. I would love to see you again. That is, if you’re up for it?’_

If he’s up for it? If Curt is up for it? 

_‘I’m totally up for it! I’m free basically every evening.’_

Good job Curt, that doesn’t make you seem desperate or like a loser without friends at all.

_‘Wonderful. Tomorrow evening work for you then? I can pick you up at the same time as tonight. Does that work?’_

_‘Perfect. Perhaps something a bit more lowkey next time.’_

Wait, no, now Owen is going to think he didn’t enjoy himself! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

_‘Not to say that I didn’t have fun tonight! I totally did!’_

_‘It’s just, that was a very nice restaurant.’_

_‘And it was great! I don’t want you to think that I only want to go out with you if we go to an expensive restaurant.’_

_‘I’m sorry, just pretend I didn’t say anything.’_

Curt groans and drops his phone, burying his face in the pillow. Five text messages in a row? Really Curt? Way to trip over yourself. Curt picks his head up and looks at his phone. 

No new messages. 

Suddenly feeling restless, Curt pushes himself up to his feet. He needs to take a shower, needs to calm down, and go to bed. He has to open the coffee shop in the morning. 

He doesn’t take very long in the shower, the hot water stinging the scrapes on his back from his and Owen’s… after-dinner activity. When he’s done, he quickly dries off and climbs into bed, pulling the covers over his head. He hears his phone fall to the floor, but he can’t bring himself to care enough to pick it up. His alarm is set, and he knows the battery is charged enough to not die overnight. He’ll face the text Owen sent, or more likely didn’t send, tomorrow. 

* * *

Waking up doesn’t get easier the more times you do it. In fact, Curt would be willing to bet that it just gets harder as you get older. So when his phone goes off at 3:30 the next morning, he wants nothing more than to stay in bed. But if he did that, he’ll never get to the shop, and then he’ll get fired. And is that really worth just lounging in bed all day? 

Curt will never admit how long he actually has to think that one over. 

He throws the covers off with a tired moan and reaches over to his nightstand, blindly reaching for his phone. When he touches nothing but the hardwood of the stand, he remembers. With a sigh, he pushes himself to his feet and looks around the floor. When he sees nothing, he gets down onto his hands and knees and looks under his bed. 

Found it. 

He reaches his arm out and closes his fingers around the device, and pulls it out. Without even bothering to look at the screen, he shuts the alarm off. Curt places the phone on the bed before starting his morning routine. 

Curt doesn’t even think to, or get a chance to, check his phone until he goes on break around 11 after his coworker shows up. 

_‘_ _Something simpler sounds nice.’_

Oh, thank god, he didn’t ruin everything. 

Curt is just as giddy for the rest of the day as he had been yesterday, if not more so. 

Owen shows up exactly on time and offers Curt his arm, just like he did the day before. They walk to their destination again, but it’s in the opposite direction as the night before. Owen asks about his day and happily listens to Curt as he talks about the more memorable customers. 

The stroll up to a bar, and Curt can’t help but tense up ever so slightly. He hasn’t been back to a bar in... a long time. But he can’t say anything to Owen. What would he even say? ‘Hey, I’m a recovering alcoholic and haven’t had a drink in seven months, but sometimes I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t have a drink.’ ? That’s not exactly second date type conversation. 

Owen orders two drinks, the same thing for each of them, but Curt stops the bartender before he can get started. “Actually, I’ll take a Sherly Temple.” The bartender gives him a strange glance before getting started. 

“Are you sure you need all the sugar? You’re sweet enough already.” Owen leans down and speaks in Curt’s ear, mouth so close that his breath dances across the shell of his ear. To accent his words, he slips his hand into Curt’s back pocket and cups his ass through his jeans. Curt feels his cheeks heat up, and he glances over at Owen, who smirks at him. 

They get their drinks and head to a secluded booth in the back corner. Owen crowds Curt against the wall sitting closer than necessary, but Curt isn’t going to complain. Their conversation flows freely as they sip their drinks. When their glasses are empty, Owen gets up to get them refills. He asks Curt what he wants and when Curt tells him another Sherly Temple, Owen gives him a strange look. 

That look stays there for all of two seconds before it shifts to one of understanding. Curt ducks his head, ready for the questions he knows are going to come. ‘How long?’ ‘How bad was it?’ ‘What are the meetings like?’

But they never come. Instead, Owen just leans back into the booth, presses a kiss against Curt’s cheek. “I’ll be right back, love.” 

Owen doesn’t bring it up for the rest of their date, but Curt can’t help but notice that when he comes back, Owen also has a non-alcoholic drink. Once their tab is paid, they sneak into the alleyway and have a repeat of the previous night. Owen leaves a nice hickey on Curt’s collar bone, and that just thrills the barista.   
  


* * *

The next two days go the same, Curt goes to work, Owen picks him up after, they go on a date, they sneak into an alleyway, and then they go their separate ways. Curt would be happy to keep this routine up for the rest of his life, but Owen does have to go back to England. 

“I’ll be back in just a few weeks. Maybe we could continue this little…. Thing of ours when I return.” 

“I would love that.” 

Curt doesn’t say that he loves Owen. It’s too soon for that. They met less than a week ago. Still, Curt thinks that what he feels for this other man has to be love. His heart races when he thinks about him, his cheeks flush, his hands get sweaty. What else could this be? 

The night before Owen’s flight, Curt invites him back to his place, and Owen eagerly accepts. They make great use of Curt’s bed, and he falls asleep with a smile on his face and an arm around his hips. He could get used to this. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t open the next day, so he gets to wake up a bit later. When he does, Owen is gone, but Curt can vaguely remember a pair of lips pressing against his forehead in the early morning hours. 

* * *

When he goes into the shop, there is a beautiful bouquet of perfect looking red roses in a glass vase on the counter. Curt whistles lowly. 

“Wow, someone’s in for a good day. Who are those for?” Blake glances up from the machine he’s working on when Curt enters. 

“They’re for you, dude.” 

“Wait, what?” Curt throws his stuff over the counter and plucks the card from where it’s nestled in the flowers. Curt’s name is written beautifully on the front of the small envelope. He slips his thumb under the flap and pops it up, gently pulling out the card that’s inside. 

_I had a wonderful time this past week with you, and I can not wait to see you when I return._   
_~Yours Truly_   
_Owen_

“Is it from that guy?” Blake asks curiously. Curt looks up at him, absolutely beaming, and nods his head. Blake holds up one finger, “If it’s anything gross, I don’t need to hear it.”

Curt rolls his eyes and picks up the vase. He wants to move it to the backroom so that a guest doesn’t ‘accidentally’ knock it over. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Not everyone communicates through sexts only.” 

The day goes slowly, only a few customers an hour, so Curt and Blake spend most of the time goofing off. When Curt gets home, he clears a space on his dresser and places the vase of roses on it. He quickly snaps a picture of them and sends it to Owen with a thank you message. 

The roses stay up there for perhaps a bit longer than they should, and every night for the next few weeks, Curt falls asleep looking at them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to post this on the 11th, exactly a month after the first chapter went up. But I just could not resist waiting until Valentine's day.
> 
> So that being said, Happy Valentine's day!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen travels back and forth from England and the U.S several times, meanwhile Curt has some big news.

Curt and Owen text frequently for the next couple of weeks. Curt’s coworkers tease him for the first week or so, but eventually, they grow bored of that a just leave him be. But no matter how many times they message, Curt never gets any less excited to get a new one. 

There’s a period of a few days where Owen doesn’t respond to any of Curt’s messages. Curt can’t help but be worried, worried that Owen is hurt, or that Curt said the wrong thing and scared him off. Thankfully, he does finally message Curt back.

‘Sorry, love. I lost my phone for a few days.’

And just like that, all is right in the world. 

Owen comes back a few days after that, but he won’t let the barista meet him at the airport despite Curt’s insistence. No matter how much Curt tries to convince him it’s no bother, that he would jump at the chance to see the British man as soon as possible, Owen’s answer firmly stays no. He won’t even tell Curt exactly when he’ll be back. 

Curt does not pout. He’s just… frustrated at Owen’s stubbornness. 

Curt makes it home from a long double one day and is absolutely exhausted. He drops his bag by the front door and stumbles towards his room. In his rush to get to his bed, he doesn’t feel the pair of eyes watching his every move, doesn’t notice the shadow following him. 

The barista face plants on his bed, his feet dangling off the side of it. The bed shifts beneath him ever so slightly as another body sits next to his own. Before Curt can react, a hand tangles in his hair, nails scraping against his skull comfortingly. 

“It’s just me, love.” Curt instantly relaxes, turning so he can look up at his… at the other man. 

The moonlight filters in through Curt's cheap blinds, lighting him from behind. Curt can see the shadow of a smile on his face, and he can’t help but smile back. 

“Owen, you’re back.” 

“I told you I would be, didn’t I?” Curt hums happily, bringing his hand up to Owen’s and entwining their fingers together. He feels an overwhelming sense of calm washes over him at having Owen so near. 

“How was your trip?” Curt tries to hide how tired he is, but he must not do a very good job at it. Owen huffs out a breath and shakes his head fondly. 

“We can talk tomorrow. You need to sleep.” He shifts, and Curt tightens his grip on Owen’s hand. 

“You just got here.” Curt protests. 

“And I’ll still be here when you wake up.” 

“Will you stay here with me? I’ve missed having you near.” Curt’s much less nervous around Owen now than he was a month ago. He feels entirely comfortable, like this is where he should be. It might be from all the texting that they’d been doing, but it feels like so much more than that. 

Owen doesn’t answer. He pulls away from the bed just long enough to strip off his jacket and toe his shoes off before climbing into the bed. He pulls Curt up so that he’s properly on the bed, not half hanging off it like he was before. 

Curt rests his head over Owen’s heart, and the British man wraps his arms around him. Curt falls asleep to the steady sound of the man he loves heartbeat. 

* * *

Sun filters in from the blinds, falling across the sleeping barista’s face. Curt lets his eyes flutter open, feeling more well-rested than he has in a long time. He turns his head and catches sight of Owen, who is already awake and scrolling through his phone. 

Curt’s brain takes a moment to realize that there is a large bruise across Owen’s cheek. It’s yellowish-green at this point, meaning it’s been there for a while at this point. Not only that, but his bottom lip has a healing cut. Curt sits up quickly, his hand coming up to cradle the side of Owen’s face. 

His hand never makes contact, Owen’s own hand grabbing Curt’s wrist, stopping the movement in its track. His grip is tight for a split second before becoming feather-soft. He smiles softly at Curt and pulls the hand towards him, and presses a kiss against Curt’s palm. 

“Well, good morning, love. Did you sleep well?” Curt ignores the question, much more concerned with making sure that Owen is okay. 

“What happened? Did someone hurt you?” Curt turns his hand and lets his fingertips brush against Owen’s cheek. The Brit tilts his head into the touch, and his smile grows wider, so much so that Curt worries that he’ll reopen the cut. 

“I’m fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed.” Owen lets go of Curt’s wrist and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “I ran into a glass door thinking that it was a sliding one and would open.” 

Curt stares at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. Just the mental image of Owen very confidently walking into and bouncing off of a glass door is one of the funniest things Curt has ever heard. He leans in and presses his lips against Owen’s, and Owen eagerly kisses him back. Owen convinces Curt to open his mouth, and their tongues tangle. 

The British man snakes a hand around Curt, and it settles on the small of his back before pulling Curt closer. Owen pulls back slightly and Curt lets his head fall back. Seeing an invitation, Owen attacks his neck with his lips, nipping at the pale skin offered up to him. Curt’s hand flies up and clutches the back of Owen’s head, 

“I’m off all day today.” Curt’s voice is breathless, and he can feel Owen’s lips quirk up.

“I know.” His lips brush against Curt’s skin, sending a shiver down his spine. Owen’s hands grab the bottom of Curt’s shirt, and he pulls up. They separate for a moment, just long enough for the fabric to pass over his head before crashing back together. They fall against the pillows and Curt lets Owen take the lead.

* * *

Curt could stay here forever. Under the covers, limbs tangled with Owen’s, basking in the afterglow. And judging by the soft expression on the other man’s face, he feels the same way. 

“I’m so glad you came back.” Curt admits, hand reaching up to brush a few stray strands of hair behind Owen’s ear.

“I’ll always come back for you.” Curt hums happily and lets his eyes fall shut for a moment. A small thought tickles at the back of Curt’s mind. He tries to wave it away, not think about anything for the time being, but it just won’t go away. 

“Hey O?” He gets an absent-minded hum as a response, so he continues. “How did you get into my apartment? I don’t think I gave you a key.” 

Owen chuckles softly. “Curt, you left your door unlocked. You’re lucky it was me who came along and not someone else.” 

Curt frowns. He’s never left his apartment unlocked before. His mothers would kill him. Before he can think too hard about it, Owen pulls him into a kiss. 

“How about lunch? My treat.” Owen tempts, pulling back just enough to speak. 

“Can we order something in? I don’t feel like getting dressed right now.” 

“What a coincidence. I don’t want you to get dressed either.” Curt blushes profusely at the flirty comment. He presses his face against Owen’s chest and feels the British man laugh. 

They order some pizza and stay in bed until it’s delivered. When there’s a knock at the door, Owen pulls away, ignoring Curt’s whine, and pulls his pants on. He slips out of the bedroom and returns a few moments later with a box of pizza and a two-liter of soda. 

Owen settles back onto the bed next to Curt, and they dive in. Passing the soda back and forth and just drinking right out of it. Curt can’t fight the urge to tease Owen. After all, British people are supposed to be all posh, aren’t they? 

Once full, Curt realizes that he really needs a shower. Naturally, Owen joins him, meaning the shower lasts three times longer than it really needed to, not that Curt is going to complain. 

Unfortunately, Owen is only in town for a few days. He has to head back to England, and Curt is bummed. Despite all of Owen’s promises, he can’t help but be worried that he’ll be forgotten. Curt knows that he’s gotten much too attached to the other man much too quickly, but he can’t help it. He feels like he’s being pulled to Owen, and he’s too weak to resist it. 

Owen comes back to town every few weeks, and Curt is just as excited to see him every time. It always feels like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being denied it for so long. 

The third time that Owen comes back to town, Curt is extra excited to see him. He has something that he’s been waiting to show the man that he can confidently call his boyfriend, for almost a month.

“Hey Owen, hold out your hand.” Curt leans against the counter of his coffee shop. Whenever Owen is in town and Curt has to work, the British man hangs around the shop working on his computer. Owen’s eyes flick over to Curt, and he tilts his head to the side slightly, eyebrow quirked up. “Come on, trust me.” 

Owen sighs dramatically and stands up, crossing over to the counter and leaning towards Curt, extending his hand as asked. Curt pulls a small item from his pocket and deposits it in the hand. Owen brings it up to his face, taking a moment to look at it before looking back at Curt, his expression sending butterflies straight to Curt’s stomach. 

“Curt, is this… a one-year sobriety coin?” Curt bites his lip and nods his head. He’s never explicitly told Owen that he’s a recovering alcoholic, but he knows that the other man figured it out. After their second date, Owen avoided ordering a drink for himself any time he and Curt went out. Curt tried to convince him that he doesn’t mind if Owen drinks around him, but he can’t deny that he feels giddy, knowing that Owen cares so much to do that for him. 

Owen surges forward and kisses Curt early. His hand, the one not holding the precious coin, comes up and cups the back of Curt’s head. Neither of them let it get too deep, Curt is at work after all, but it’s still amazing. 

“I am so proud of you, love. This couldn’t have been easy, but you did it. Let me take you out tonight. We have to celebrate.” Owen seems almost more excited than Curt is about this. He’s virtually bouncing. 

“Okay.” A tiny laugh bubbles from Curt’s chest, one that might even be called a giggle, and he smiles so large his cheeks hurt. “I love you, Owy.” 

Owen shoots him a playful glare at the nickname. One night, Curt had been desperate to find a pet name for Owen. He always calls Curt 'love’, and it always makes Curt feel cherished. He just wanted Owen to feel the same way. 

For that whole evening, Curt called Owen everything in the book, ‘babe’, ‘honey’, ‘sugar’, you name it, Curt tried it. At one point, ‘Owy’ slipped out, and Owen groaned at it. 

“Anything but that.” 

Naturally, it had to be that. 

Curt only uses it on special occasions, and every time Owen acts like he hates it. Thankfully, Curt has gotten to know Owen enough to see that he doesn’t actually dislike the pet name. He cherishes it, but doesn’t want to admit defeat. 

“I love you too.” The pair shares a small kiss before they both have to return to what they were working on. 

The second the shop is locked, Owen whisks Curt away. He’s led through the streets to the nicest restaurant in town, one nicer than even the one they went to on their first date. Curt will never get used to Owen spoiling Curt like this. He’s tried to convince Owen before that he doesn’t need to spend so much on Curt, but Owen always waves him off. 

Tonight though, Owen went a step farther than ever before. When they go inside, there is no one there. Not a single other group to be seen. 

“Owen, you didn’t.” Curt doesn’t know what to say. What can he say?

“I did.’ Owen smiles wide. A server comes over to them, a champagne glass in each hand. Owen happily takes them and hands one over to Curt. The barista trusts Owen implicitly, so he takes the glass and takes a small sip from it. 

“Apple juice?” He asks, the familiar flavor washing over his tongue. 

“It’s your favorite juice, after all.” Owen’s right, it is. Before Curt can respond, the server leads them to their table, a cozy booth with a candle. The server places down two menus and quickly scurries away. Curt takes a moment to let his head catch up with everything that just happened. 

“Owen, I love you, but you didn’t have to do all this.” 

“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. This is a big moment for you, and I want to treat you.” Owen speaks so genuinely that Curt can’t help but tear up. 

“How did I end up with someone like you?” Owen reaches across the table and takes Curt’s hand, squeezing it gently. 

“By being you.” They just look at each other for a long moment, something unnameable passing between them. Without looking away, Owen picks up his glass and raises it. “A toast. Congratulations, Curt, you amaze me every day.”

Curt picks up his own glass and taps it gently against Owen’s. “One year down, a lifetime to go.” Curt quips. Owen chuckles, and they both drink before turning their attention to the menus. 

Well, Owen turns to the menu. Curt pretends to but is really still focused on the man across from him. A lifetime of sobriety doesn’t seem like such a daunting challenge if Owen’s with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this fic supposed to update only once a month? Nope. Is it going to change? Maybe. These first three chapters were not written yet, while the rest of the fic has been. But who knows? I might be lazy and keep the update once a month schedule. Only time will tell. 
> 
> ~Fe

**Author's Note:**

> Come find us on Tumblr!  
> Fe-Ijustwantjohnmcnamaratobehappyok  
> Jack-Holographiccatpun


End file.
